


what happened under the pale orange light

by sailo_rjune



Series: hinata-kun one shots [6]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: M/M, No V3 spoilers, OT3, Orgasm Denial, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, a tiny bit of blood, erotic asphyxiation, erotic everything really, hinata-kun spoilers, like really emo smut ok, lvoe, ouma's got some cute panties, rantaro is just...well you'll see lmao, sex work (mentioned), shuuichi has a really sensitive body, underage sex lightly ref as a memory w no detail other than it happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:57:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailo_rjune/pseuds/sailo_rjune
Summary: ...“Really, Rantaro?”Shuuichi said in a sharply exhaled breath, staring up at him from where his head fell back on the mattress. His whole arched neck, chest, stomach and hips were littered in bruises Rantaro had been leaving all over him for weeks. They ranged from pale yellow to straight purple and Rantaro still felt pangs of something that hurt when he thought about how he almost lost this boy. It was why he so desperately marked him over and over. Why he so desperately wanted to make up for lost time and never let him go again.So yeah. Rantaro was going to make Shuuichi come in his underwear. Without even touching him down there. They hadn’t done this in a long time. Two whole days. But that didn’t count because Ouma didn’tseeit. Rantaro wanted to show off.Well. It was a combination of showing off and also just plain showing Ouma because everyone sleeping with Shuuichi should know about this. Rantaro leaned down to hover over Shuuichi’s face.“Really.” He said, barely lilting into playfulness, smirking with those fucking peridot eyes Shuuichi had been looking into his whole life....





	what happened under the pale orange light

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> .  
>  idk what to say for myself. these boys are f ruining my life  
> .  
> .

 

 

 

“Come over here.” Rantaro was smiling in a particularly mischievous way, pausing between Shuuichi’s legs to look over at him.

 

 

Ouma had returned from the kitchen in a tiny bathrobe that barely covered anything to find them like this. Shuuichi was lying down, but with like nine pillows under his back so he was fully arched, bare chest exposed under his unbuttoned shirt falling off his shoulders.

 

 

He climbed up on the bed to sit beside Shuuichi’s mound of pillows. The black haired boy squinted at him.

 

 

“Ouma, don’t eat on the bed, please.” It wasn’t a politely imploring ‘please,’ it was a give me a fucking break ‘please.’ Ouma had a bowl of cereal in his lap and was crunching and dripping and Shuuichi threw one arm over his face because it was gross.

 

 

Ouma replied around a too large bite in his mouth, “Do you want me to watch this or not?”

 

 

The taller boys answered at the same time. Rantaro with an enthusiastic yes, and Shuuichi with a louder and more annoyed, no.

 

 

“I’m staying.” Ouma stated, continuing to eat his cereal.

 

 

Shuuichi was about to voice a complaint when suddenly Rantaro’s very selfish mouth was over his.

 

 

Melting under Rantaro Amami is something that just like…happens, ok. Or at least this is something Shuuichi resigned himself to a long time ago.

 

 

The thing though…the thing about Rantaro was that he wasn’t trying to get you to melt. He was trying to get you _off_. Constantly.

 

 

 _It’s because he’s so fucking hot_ , Shuuichi thought, partially lying to himself, like always. To justify why the taller boy always seemed to make him feel so fucking weak inside.

 

 

Shuuichi felt Rantaro’s fingertips, firm and warm, running down his chest, along his stomach, straight to the button of his pants. He turned his wrist then, to press his palm down the length of Shuuichi’s dick. The boy under him jerked into his touch, letting out a small moan. Shuuichi was already hard. Already waiting for him. It made Rantaro smile against the boy’s lips.

 

 

Shuuichi’s breath had quickened; Rantaro could feel it against him as he pulled back a mere inch. Enough to glance down at those lips. Shuuichi’s lips that gave him so much pleasure and so much shit over the years. The wet curve and the full softness and the flushed color…so familiar.

 

 

 _So perfect_.

 

 

Rantaro almost forgot Ouma was there. Or maybe he did when his staring trailed up from Shuuichi’s mouth to his eyes. Shuuichi couldn’t fucking hide it anymore.

 

 

They both knew that when Rantaro confessed, Shuuichi didn’t know how the hell he felt about it. But somewhere between that fucked up night and the fucked up shit that happened after it, Shuuichi had fallen in love with Rantaro. Deeply.

 

 

Or maybe it was always that way but he refused to open his heart to it. It didn’t matter right now though.

 

 

Shuuichi’s eyes were something else. Rantaro never knew a time without Shuuichi by his side. But even when they were kids, Rantaro thought Shuuichi’s eyes were something that probably shouldn’t exist in nature. Gold. Like actual gold. To this day he had never seen anyone else with eyes this color.

 

 

 _They’re beautiful_.

 

 

And the way they were looking at him right now. Rantaro thinks that Shuuichi has definitely forgotten Ouma is here because of the emotions that are just _there_ , raw and unfiltered in his eyes. This boy would not say it again after that first time no matter how many times Rantaro asked him. And maybe he didn’t have to. Not when it was all over his flushed face right now.

 

 

This was not something Shuuichi had shown him very often. At least not sober and like, never _before_ coming.

 

 

So he kissed Shuuichi again, more deeply. But he wasn’t too far gone in the depth of his feelings to make anything about this terribly romantic. He was unfastening Shuuichi’s pants with one hand. _Quickly_.

 

 

Shuuichi lifted his hips to help him without having to be asked and Rantaro _really_ wanted to say something like, “good boy,” except that he had learned the hard way too many times over that Shuuichi was very anti praise kink. Rantaro did it anyway sometimes. Just because of the way Shuuichi would bite him and tell him that he’s not a fucking dog.

 

 

He would save that for when they were alone. Somehow Rantaro wasn’t ready to show Ouma that side of their boyfriend yet. Like he was already trying to push things as hard as he could without actually scaring the smaller boy away. Shuuichi getting actually pissed at Rantaro and like _angry-fucking_ him was not something that Ouma was likely prepared for. The boy constantly made jokes about power bottoms but Rantaro was not sure Ouma actually knew what a power bottom was.

 

 

Rantaro looked over at Ouma and didn’t even have to ask if he was paying attention because he was definitely paying attention. He had already put his bowl back on the table, replacing it with his panta lean, drinking it along with the view. 

 

 

Rantaro tended to conveniently forget that things had changed a lot between Shuuichi and Ouma lately. Even before he walked in on them kissing last week. Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t want to leave them alone together. He didn’t want to think about it.

 

 

Rantaro was leaving Shuuichi’s boxers untouched, smiling down at his very visible erection under the checkered fabric.

 

 

 _“Really, Rantaro?”_ Shuuichi said in a sharply exhaled breath, staring up at him from where his head fell back on the mattress. His whole arched neck, chest, stomach and hips were littered in bruises Rantaro had been leaving all over him for weeks. They ranged from pale yellow to straight purple and Rantaro still felt pangs of something that hurt when he thought about how he almost lost this boy. It was why he so desperately marked him over and over. Why he so desperately wanted to make up for lost time and never let him go again.

 

 

So yeah. Rantaro was going to make Shuuichi come in his underwear. Without even touching him down there. They hadn’t done this in a long time. Two whole days. But that didn’t count because Ouma didn’t _see_ it. Rantaro wanted to show off.

 

 

Well. It was a combination of showing off and also just plain _showing_ Ouma because everyone sleeping with Shuuichi should know about this. Rantaro leaned down to hover over Shuuichi’s face.

 

 

“Really.” He said, barely lilting into playfulness, smirking with those fucking peridot eyes Shuuichi had been looking into his whole life. The colour was astounding. It was nothing like the foggy sea green his older brothers had…it was clear and crystalline, laughing at him.

 

 

A glint flashed across that deep gold, flecked with bright green and Rantaro saw straight through Shuuichi’s annoyed pouting. Coming in your underwear is dirty. Shuuichi Saihara liked everything that was dirty when it came to sex. Ouma could learn that part on his own.

 

 

Shuuichi’s body was amazing in a lot of ways. And it wasn’t just how he looked. It was also the way Shuuichi’s body was so unbelievably _sensitive_ and how he made sounds that were probably responsible for the way Rantaro’s ego was something that like the universe, showed no sign of ever ceasing to expand.

 

 

Rantaro reached into the drawer next to the bed and pulled out a fucking feather. Like one of those really fluffy ones. Ouma just started laughing uncontrollably. Shuuichi was right behind him, snorting and then laughing _hard_. Ouma was full on cackling by this point and Rantaro couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. His words came out broken by small giggles as he looked at Ouma.

 

 

“Could _you_ come off a fucking feather?”

 

 

He swatted the shorter boy in the face with it and then Ouma’s laughter kind of quickly died because Rantaro moved to brush the wispy strands slowly across Shuuichi’s stomach, right along the elastic of his boxers. Ouma watched in silent amazement as Shuuichi inhaled sharply, _visibly_ shivering and twitching. From the tips of his fingers all the way down his long legs. When Rantaro brushed the feather back the other way, one of Shuuichi’s legs completely spasmed and the other pulled up sharply. Shuuichi had his toes curled and he threw his arms up over his face.

 

 

Ouma would have thought Shuuichi was faking this kind of…reaction…if he didn’t know any better by now. He had seen and heard enough. It was still completely amazing to see though, and taking one look at Rantaro told Ouma in volumes that this was apparently not something that ever got old.

 

 

He had always thought Shuuichi was unfairly pretty. Maybe if he hadn’t met Rantaro first all those years ago everything would have gone backwards. Maybe he would have fallen for Shuuichi that first year of high school.

 

 

He had always been jealous of Shuuichi. And even more so after he realized that yes, they were fucking. And they fucked a _lot_. It all became crystal clear the day they all moved into that shitty apartment together last year. Rantaro disappeared into Shuuichi’s room and there was no mistaking what all the moaning and screaming and headboard relentlessly slapping the wall meant.

 

 

Ouma tried not to think about how all of those feelings spiraled exponentially after they came to live down here. Logically he knew. But living with it was another story altogether. Rantaro couldn’t live without Shuuichi. He wilted. And even though they never talked about it, it was blatantly apparent that they were in love with each other. Intensely.

 

 

So what had happened between himself and Shuuichi was…totally unexpected, and Ouma couldn’t believe it was happening at first.

 

 

With Rantaro, Ouma was drawn in by how fucking attractive he was from day one. As their friendship grew, Ouma’s feelings deepened to the alarmingly loyal and frankly terrifying love it had become over the summer.

 

 

With Shuuichi…they didn’t hate each other per se. It was more like they tolerated each other all through high school. By the time they were in college, they had become close just because they had known each other so long and were used to each other’s personalities. Ouma was not attracted to him at all. He was so blinded by his feelings for Rantaro that the thought of caring about someone else like that was just like. Unimaginable.

 

 

When Shuuichi first came down here, it was the shitshow that was to be expected. Shuuichi decked Rantaro and didn’t speak to him for two weeks. And during that time, Ouma and Shuuichi spent more time together than they ever had since they met.

 

 

Shuuichi was doing things no one had ever done for him. Ouma started to get antsy when Shuuichi was away and found himself filled with an unfamiliar warmth when he was there. With him. Two short weeks, seeing this other side of a person he had thought was annoying since forever…yea, it was unexpected.

 

 

But not scary.

 

 

Ouma felt a real connection with the other boy by the time Shuuichi finally caved and spent three days locked in their room alone with Rantaro fucking like crazy and sorting out their shit.

 

 

Even if Shuuichi was completely fucked out and covered in bruises, bite marks and scratches the next time he saw him…nothing changed in the way he felt. And apparently it hadn’t changed on Shuuichi’s end either.

 

 

So one day it just happened. They kissed. Ouma was surprised at how his body and heart had started to react to Shuuichi. He wanted him. He didn’t know if he loved him or not. But he definitely wanted to see what the fuck Rantaro saw in him when they were in bed together.

 

 

He knew it had to be something good.

 

 

The butterflies filling both of them during that short, _soft_ kiss were literally knocked to hell because Rantaro chose that moment to walk in on them.

 

 

That turned out to be a night to remember. Ouma remembers thinking that he was going to just _actually_ die when they destroyed him that night where Rantaro told him he loved him for the first time in the middle of all of it.

 

 

Since then he had spent two nights alone with Shuuichi while Rantaro was out _‘doing a job.’_

 

 

All of that honeyed depth was there. The thing he had become so intimately aware of that had violently culminated in that one kiss. It was perpetually washing over him. _Shuuichi was not like how he was when Rantaro was there._

 

 

Shuuichi tore down every bullshit defense Ouma had. And they were truly fragile, _bullshit_ walls that barely stood a chance against what the other boy _did_ to him.

 

 

Everything was slow and deep and _fucking beautiful_. They didn’t talk much… the things they expressed, naked and pressed together, kissing like fucking teenagers…there was something so profound in those moments. There wasn’t a need for words.

 

 

Ouma felt something deep, welling out of his chest every time he even made eye contact with Shuuichi across a crowded room. Or even worse, when they were under sheets doing the most vanilla shit ever. Shuuichi buried in him, not looking away, stupidly beautiful black lashes and swaying silky hair mocking him. Shuuichi did things to Ouma that made him feel like he might float away because this beautiful boy was making him lighter than air.

 

 

The brilliance of it all blinded Ouma in a completely different way than the feelings he had for Rantaro. _Shuuichi fucking owned him_. Held him and showered him with things that a boy who refused to believe in love until _very_ recently shouldn’t even be capable of.

 

 

And now he was gorgeously succumbing under Rantaro’s literal _‘feather-light’_ touch. Shuuichi was starting to get vocal and both of the other boys knew these sounds were only going to get louder and louder until they were echoing off every wall in this room. Shuuichi’s head was hanging back and his face was screwed into something that made Ouma’s dick twitch under his little bathrobe.

 

 

Ouma couldn’t look away even if wanted to. Which he most certainly did not.

 

 

Together, Rantaro and Shuuichi were something to see. Like.

 

 

 _It’s so fucking hot. Jesus christ_.

 

 

Ouma glanced at Rantaro’s face, but it was equally intoxicating and the minor irritation Ouma was feeling dissipated into nothing. Basically Ouma was _acutely_ aware that he had been missing out on this shit the _entire_ time he’s known them. Yes, Rantaro was a horny bastard from _very early on_ and he could give a fuck about what people thought about that.

 

 

But seeing how Rantaro was looking at Shuuichi not only did something obscene to the pit of Ouma’s stomach, it made his fucking heart swell and he could _feel_ it.

 

 

This was _weird_ , man. This was the first time Ouma was seeing Rantaro with that _familiar_ expression he had only for Shuuichi and didn’t feel jealousy flare up inside of him like a fucking tornado. And not only that, but feeling like _this_. In his fucking chest and his mind and yea, his dick but that last part was a constant where these two were concerned. These two gorgeous as fuck, _hot_ boys…doing stuff like this to each other. Ouma was enraptured.

 

 

Shuuichi was beautifully coming apart, back arching up off the already giant stack of pillows. He was panting in desperate rasps, sweetly like he could barely breathe. The sounds Shuuichi was making might have been half of what was so appealing about this shit. They certainly _did things_ to the other boys, regularly.

 

 

Ouma had long since developed quite the boner and he couldn’t take his eyes away from what he was seeing.

 

 

Shuuichi felt like he always did under Rantaro. When he wasn’t pissed at him…just fucking helpless and _needing_ all of it.

 

 

It was nothing new. It was something that had been going on forever.

 

 

Rantaro was torturing him under this fucking feather. He didn’t even have a shred of embarrassment when he started rapidly flicking it over Shuuichi’s nipple. Instead his face was something that killed Shuuichi now. After all this bullshit they’ve been through.

 

 

Rantaro was not ashamed to just blatantly stare at Shuuichi with nothing but this uncomfortable love all over his face. Shuuichi would have been blinded if he wasn’t constantly forced to tightly shut his eyes as he felt _so many things_ because of that _stupid fucking feather_. His body felt electrified and it wasn’t even entirely sexual.

 

 

He was being teased.

 

 

In a brief respite while they were just staring up at each other, Shuuichi breathed out a harsh, _“God damn you, Rantaro.”_

 

 

Rantaro just grinned and tossed the feather somewhere behind him. He leaned over to Ouma, setting his hand down on the mattress between his legs. Ouma was already leaning up into. This kiss.

 

 

Shuuichi watched their lips delicately dance together while their tongues slowly wound around each other. It was sensual. Ouma’s sheer innocence and small frame did something that made them both want to be gentle with him. His kiss was always so…soft and sweet.

 

 

_Little shit._

 

 

Rantaro opened one eye to look over at Shuuichi. He saw a fondness there and Shuuichi saw how Rantaro smirked against Ouma’s lips. The taller boy ran his fingertips up the middle of Shuuichi’s stomach, straight to his already over stimulated nipple.

 

 

At first he just pressed in, not even looking away from what he was doing to Ouma, who had sat up to wrap his arms around Rantaro’s neck. His small hands were all up in pistachio hair, gripping hard while the other boy deepened the kiss. Ouma immediately heard Shuuichi brokenly moan, _much_ louder than anything so far. His purple eyes snapped open to glance over as he turned away from Rantaro. Slightly. They were still connected with the smear of saliva on Rantaro’s lips Ouma had created when he turned his head a bare inch to see what was happening.

 

 

Rantaro had Shuuichi’s nipple pinched, _hard_ between his thumb and that one long ring that took up half of his middle finger. And he was mercilessly rolling it between them.

 

 

_That shit **has** to hurt, god damn._

 

 

Shuuichi’s face and voice and fucking whole body were collectively saying otherwise though. His cheeks were flushed and his hands were gripping the sheets.  Even Ouma could see how Shuuichi was fucking _gone_ and forgetting how to even breathe. The countdown to Shuuichi actually screaming was starting.

 

 

Ouma was really starting to believe Rantaro now. That Shuuichi could just come without anyone touching his dick.

 

 

Rantaro sat up and brought his hand that was not torturing Shuuichi to grip Ouma by the hair at the back of his head. It was always softer than it looked. It felt silky and thick between Rantaro’s fingers. He fucking loved it.

 

 

Rantaro was still new to doing these kinds of things to Ouma. Part of him buried in the recesses of his mind _knew_ that Shuuichi had everything to do with that though and it made him unconsciously run his forefinger over the tip of the flesh he held pinched. _So tightly_. He dragged over the pink, soft, swollen skin there in something that was teasing and way too slow for Shuuichi’s liking. All of that disappointment and frustration came out in a groan ripped right out of Shuuichi’s throat and exhaled in a sound that made Rantaro almost regret this whole lesson thing.

 

 

Shuuichi like this was _fucking beautiful_. Barely anything had happened and he already looked so fucked out. He was fully tenting, leaking through the crisscrossed fabric. Begging to be touched in so many expressions, bodily spasms and that shivering he always did…and his voice breaking over and over again.

 

 

_I love you, Shuuichi._

 

 

But Rantaro wanted to fuck him, like right now. He wanted to rip Shuuichi’s boxers off and go down on him from front to back and repeat until the boy fell apart over and over again into unconsciousness.

 

 

Shuuichi was the kind of person that would never let him own him. And Rantaro was fine with that…it was enough that he definitely owned Shuuichi when fucking was involved.

 

 

Rantaro tightened his already rough grip at the back of Ouma’s hair and guided him forward to bend him over Shuuichi’s arched body. He pushed Ouma’s lips to the already reddened and swollen nipple that was pressing into his mouth and Rantaro only said one word.

 

 

_“Suck.”_

 

 

Shuuichi broke at that point. He screamed out even before Ouma did anything. Just because of Rantaro’s commanding voice and the way he locked eyes with him when he said it.

 

 

He could see it in Rantaro’s face.

 

 

Just as Shuuichi built up to a level where he was shamelessly crying out because it _felt so **fucking** good_ …Rantaro had a breaking point as well. It was the thing where Shuuichi getting all fucked up over his touch made him want to fuck the shit out of him. Until Shuuichi was screaming his name and coming all over himself, shuddering in his arms.

 

 

But for Ouma’s sake and the pride that made him choke on his lust…he was determined to just make Shuuichi come already. In his fucking underwear like Rantaro promised.

 

 

It was sheer torture to not be able to reach down and give it to him already.

 

 

 

Shuuichi knowingly smirked up at him with a side eye as his head was turned fully into the sheets, black hair a sweaty mess covering half of his face in the most erotic way possible. Rantaro didn’t know if he’d make it. And he definitely didn’t know if he’d make it once Ouma started obliging his request.

 

 

 _“Fuuuuuccckk!”_ Shuuichi cried out in a wrecked and desperate voice. Loud enough to echo back three times. Ouma bit him gently, licking his whole tongue along the small tip between his teeth. This elicited a completely satisfying, _“Ouma, **fuck** … **unnnghh** …_a _hh!!!---oh my **gooodddd**. Ouma stop. Ouma **please**.”_

 

 

This was followed by an unintelligible and frankly obscene set of noises after that. Characteristically loud ones that sent something electrical through Ouma’s whole body including his dick that was still there, hanging out of his satin panties, waiting for _something_.

 

 

Something to fucking get him off already. He took his subconscious frustration out on the nipple in his mouth. Sucking him hard only to lightly flicking his tongue, making Shuuichi fucking writhe below him. Ouma had been playing with his own nipples constantly, ever since he started masturbating. So like, forever ago.

 

 

It wasn’t like he needed Rantaro to show him this part.

 

 

Ouma knew what the fuck he was doing and Shuuichi was a mess of surprise and losing his mind under him. The smaller boy wrapped his arms around him, easily sliding one thin arm under the sinful arch Shuuichi’s body made over the pillows and then gripping his fucking throat with his other hand. Ouma was stronger than he looked and had Shuuichi completely fucking pinned, choking and totally on his way to coming over this entire shit.

 

 

Rantaro _wholly_ approved of this entire situation. His attention was evenly divided between the way Ouma’s small wet lips were making Shuuichi go mad and the way his own dick was painfully pressing against his pants right now. He took one longing last glance at the outline of Shuuichi’s completely hard dick that was twitching uncontrollably against the constraint of his boxers. Rantaro couldn’t take it anymore. He took it upon himself to help push him over the edge by bringing his face right over Shuuichi’s other nipple.

 

 

He breathed out hotly against him. The shape of it went from soft and swollen to tensed and prickling with sensitivity. After recovering from throwing his head back and moaning brokenly at the sensation, Shuuichi gave him one look that said everything.

 

 

 _Fucking do it already_.

 

 

Rantaro’s reply was a silent _fuck you_ and _I know_ all in one look that was easily deciphered by his childhood friend.

 

 

Shuuichi had reached his breaking point. He stared directly at Rantaro, face pained and body fucking shaking from the shit Ouma was obediently doing to him.

 

 

 _“I want you in me, so hurry the fuck up.”_ Shuuichi stated flatly, way above a whisper that made Ouma pop off and look at them. He barely had time to take in the way this destroyed Rantaro’s face…he had his bottom lip between his teeth, looking like he was going to bite it in half and the only way this expression was different from when he was coming deep inside them was that his eyes were _fully_ open. Wide and full of so many unspoken, violently erotic things.

 

 

Far too quickly to match the state of Shuuichi’s body that had been going back and forth from limp and helpless to rigid and screaming…Ouma suddenly felt Shuuichi’s hand at the back of his head and with no grace at all, the taller, fucking beautiful boy shoved his head right back down, fully leaning upwards to meet his wet, flushed lips half way.

 

 

And Rantaro was not immune to Shuuichi’s blatant request or the way he pushed Ouma’ head back down without hesitation. He never was. Shuuichi saying anything like ‘fuck me now’ was Rantaro’s kryptonite…it broke him down and blew his mind out right through his dick. Every fucking time.

 

 

So he let his head fall down to press his lips down in one soft kiss, feeling gooseflesh under his lips. He moved them, closed and dry, pressing into it, back and forth with a roll of his head.

 

 

 _You smell **so** _**_fucking_** **_good_** _._

 

 

Rantaro felt like he was getting drunk off of this _panting_ , _writhing_ , **_fucking gorgeous_** **_golden_** _eyed_ boy. And that was also something that was nothing new between them. Rantaro was addicted to Shuuichi in a way that he never wanted to be cured of.

 

 

He breathed out deeply and hotly against Shuuichi once more, completely immersed in the chaotic and _wet_ sounds Ouma was making on the other side. He had no idea Ouma could be so filthy and it turned him on to no end. Both of them were fucking perfect even if he was perpetually awful at conveying that out loud.

 

 

Finally closing his mouth around Shuuichi, he sucked and pulled and bit him over and over.

 

 

Ouma’s grip around Shuuichi’s throat had not lessened at _all_. The smaller boy wasn’t entirely keeping him from breathing, but he _was_ doing something that was making Shuuichi fall apart even more to the point where he was actively toeing that edge he was dying to tip over.

 

 

Shuuichi was not someone who generally ever wanted to be choked out during sex. He fucking loved doing it to Rantaro, who perversely loved it right back, _even more._ But for Shuuichi it was something that felt smothering and restrictive and worst of all, distracting. In an irritating way.

 

 

 _How fucking ever_ , the press of Ouma’s fingers firmly gripping around his throat was something else. It made him _really_ want to lift his hips up, but actually into something, like Ouma’s tight little asshole. But there was nothing but air and the incredibly annoying tight boxers he still had on and desperately wanted to be rid of already.

 

 

If he wasn’t so totally fucked up he would have spared more than a tiny fleeting thought that went right out the proverbial window;

 

 

_Was this what Rantaro has been feeling this whole time? With me?_

 

 

It was just that…Ouma was constantly making him think things like this whether or not he was losing his mind under them and their completely unfair fucking lesson going on right now.

 

 

At any rate, Shuuichi could _not_ deal with things right now. That familiar coiling mess was collapsing into him. _Finally_. He already knew this one was going to be legitimately insane. He was far too worked up and it was more than dying at how they were making him feel or the way everything they did was _way_ too hot. It was all these feelings flooding in too.  The deepness and the dependency and the whole how would I fucking live without you thing. It was washing over him in warmth and making all of this far more intense than anything he was used to.

 

 

 _“Rantaro,”_ Shuuichi called up to him, looking and sounding absolutely wrecked. Rantaro knew what this meant and prepared himself for it. The actual point of this whole thing.

 

 

_This beautiful fucking thing._

 

 

He ran his fingers slowly down Shuuichi’s quivering stomach and even lower to splay widely over Shuuichi’s hardness, careful not to touch it all. Rantaro pressed his fingers there into the fabric, pushing mercilessly into his skin. This was almost cheating, but Shuuichi was fucking begging. With his whole body.

 

 

Rantaro lifted himself up with one look at what he had done below him. There might be a bruise later. It made him smile and he bent down for one more impossibly soft kiss to swollen flesh before moving up to press his lips, gently against Shuuichi’s hair over his ear.

 

 

_God. You smell so good. I can’t._

 

 

He spoke then, low and smoky and everything that made Shuuichi lose his mind, _“Come for me.”_

 

 

Shuuichi arched up so violently that Ouma was knocked to the side and he did what he always does. He fully screamed out Rantaro’s name followed by a copious string of slurred _‘Fuuuccckk’s_ and _‘Goddd’s_ and frantically _loud_ moans.

 

 

The sounds and the sight were altogether too much for Ouma.

 

 

Rantaro watched wide eyed in amazement and fucking _joy_ as Shuuichi and Ouma started coming at the same time. Ouma painting his thigh and ruining silk, still kneeling across from him. _And fuck_. Shuuichi just like visibly pulsing in his release that was starting to soak through, a lot. Both of them were gasping and bodily going boneless. Rantaro had to reach over Shuuichi to prevent Ouma collapsing right off the bed. Holding him there, Rantaro had a full view of Shuuichi’s soaking wet fucking gyrating crotch below him and a whimpering, severely breathless Ouma Kokichi in his arms.

 

 

Rantaro easily lifted Ouma to set him down on his side, lying him flat next to Shuuichi, who was still gasping and swearing and rocking his hips up into nothing as whatever it was he went through when he came was still blissfully washing over him.

 

 

Rantaro leaned down over Ouma and licked his entire thigh clean, swallowing before attempting to do the same to the boy’s spent dick, but Ouma swatted him away because it was _way_ too sensitive right now. The taller boy brought himself up to balance over Ouma’s face. He kissed him softly, feeling how fucked up his lips had gotten from doing that to Shuuichi for nineteen minutes straight. They were salty and swollen and soft, and they smelled a little bit like Shuuichi which kind of made Rantaro’s breath hitch. He smiled against Ouma’s lips as he reached down and _gently_ pushed the boy fully back into his little pair of fucking _hot_ panties.

 

 

_Jesus christ, Ouma._

 

 

Rantaro took it a step further, smile turning into full on smirk as he rubbed his palm straight down them. He could feel the synthetic satin gliding under his hand and the completely obvious bulge under his palm and it made him melt a bit.

 

 

 

How long had Ouma been wearing shit like this without him knowing about it? Rantaro would ask him about it but not right now.

 

 

With one final breathy kiss, lips flush to the softness under that silky fabric, he lifted himself and turned towards Shuuichi who was finally calming down.

 

 

And even if Shuuichi wasn’t so far into his come down, Rantaro wouldn’t have changed what he was so actively doing right now. He was moving and unbuckling his pants to pull his utterly impatient dick out with one hand and reaching under Shuuichi’s ass with the other to rip his boxers off.

 

 

Ouma lazily and blessedly kicked the lube across the bed to them and Rantaro grabbed it like his life depended on it, twirling it down just in time to let a large amount spill out onto his other hand that had yanked Shuuichi’s cum stained underwear down to his knees.

 

 

Ouma saw it all and he never understood how they always needed each other so intensely like this. He _clearly_ heard what they had said to each other before Shuuichi came buckets in his underwear which made Ouma come from like a contact high or some shit. Watching them through the haze of just falling apart so unexpectedly _hard_ was kind of intoxicating though.

 

 

Rantaro had thoroughly slathered his aching dick all over and lifted Shuuichi’s still clothed legs, harshly folding the boy into himself.

 

 

Using the lube all over his fingers, he only had the patience to de-ring his middle and ring finger from one hand, haphazardly spitting them onto the floor after taking them off with his mouth.

 

 

Shuuichi’s epic and perpetual _impatience_ afforded Rantaro the luxury of being able to just press in all the way with two fingers, like immediately. Shuuichi’s subsequent loud and hitching groan and the way Ouma was just fucking staring at them, touching himself in those god damn panties, robe hanging totally open over the bed around him…Rantaro was losing his damn mind.

 

 

Rantaro turned to look down and Shuuichi was right there below him, meeting his eyes in something existential with the way their bodies fit together and how they simply understood each other so well by now. Shuuichi still said it for Ouma’s benefit though because Rantaro wasn’t the only one who had noticed what grape chibi was doing to himself over there.

 

 

 _“Move dumbass.”_ It was playful though. Teasing. Fucking _daring_.

 

 

Rantaro really regrets not one up-ing Shuuichi in this moment. He should have just started scissoring like a motherfucker as soon as he saw Shuuichi looking up at him like that.

 

 

It didn’t matter.

 

 

Rantaro was moving and not being gentle and not doing any of this for Shuuichi’s benefit at all. That could start once his dick was inside this tight, wet hole his fingers were currently destroying.

 

 

It was only two fingers and way not enough time but Shuuichi would get off on it and both of them knew this.

 

 

Rantaro was so past due at this point that he didn’t even try to do the thing to get Shuuichi a tiny bit pissed and flustered by asking if it was ok. He just went for it because neither of them gave a fuck anymore. They both needed it, badly.

 

 

Shuuichi was fucking tight and hot and it was _hurting_ both of them, but Rantaro pressed on, filling him inch by inch until he bottomed out. Ouma watched in awe as both of them went slack jawed with their eyes rolling back.

 

 

This was where Shuuichi got a fucking noise out of Rantaro. The pistachio haired boy had his head fully tilted back and just let go for once in his life. The deep groan filled the room and both Shuuichi and Ouma turned to grin at each other like idiots over this rarity.

 

Again, Ouma was surprised with how he was reacting to all of this. Before Shuuichi turned his fucking world upside down this whole situation would have been extremely difficult for Ouma to process in a rational way. And it wasn’t like any of this was rational anyway, it was pure emotion and entirely sexual to a level that the jealousy he thought he knew so well just fell away completely.

 

 

And even though they were fully connected, something else was changing. They kept looking over at him and Ouma knew his penchant for silky things was getting to them. Driving them on, _into each other_. So he shamelessly lied there in full view, looking right back and rocking up into his palm until he was hard enough partially escape the confines of that tiny excuse for a pair of underwear.

 

 

 _“Fuck, Ouma…”_ Rantaro exhaled in something between breathless and desperation. Shuuichi chose that moment to rock up and back onto him in something that was shallow and way too fast for Rantaro’s brain to process because all of this shit was deconstructing him to a primal level where thinking itself was flying out of his grasp.

 

 

He couldn’t care less.

 

 

When Shuuichi moved, Rantaro could tell that it was still too tight. It felt fucking amazing but there was no way in hell that Shuuichi was remotely properly prepared.

 

 

Still inside of him, gripped so fucking tightly by Shuuichi’s insides, Rantaro bent down into the boys legs against his chest. He hovered over Shuuichi’s face and whispered to him.

 

 

 _“You’re going to tear.”_ His eyes were somewhere between determined and hungry and actual concern. He wasn’t moving an inch.

 

 

When Rantaro had bent him even more into himself, Shuuichi could definitely feel the sting. The dangerous kind that makes it so you won’t be able to fucking walk the next day if you ignore it.

 

 

Shuuichi put his arms up tightly around Rantaro’s neck, pulling him down into him further in every sense of the word. Shuuichi placed his lips to Rantaro’s piercings along his ear on the side that was not in view of Ouma. And then he whispered back as quietly as possible. The one thing he knew would make Rantaro lose control right now.

 

 

_“I love you.”_

 

Rantaro’s brain _completely_ short circuited and his hips automatically, with no conscious thought involved at all-- heaved back, pulling out way too much before slamming back in. They connected again in a _very_ audible slap. And again Rantaro’s eyes fucking rolled back because _god damn_.

 

 

Not two seconds later, Rantaro was all over Shuuichi’s mouth with his own, murderously probing his tongue ring. Sucking and biting his lips and drowning him with a fully suffocating kiss. His hips slammed down over and over again as he swallowed every single sweet reverberating sound of Shuuichi’s pain and pleasure.

 

 

To say too much was going on was an understatement. Somehow, Shuuichi said it, which was like twice now, this time included. All the ways he looked at Rantaro and held him became vibrantly real to him in the feelings that came along with Shuuichi _saying_ that. It was completely psychological. Shuuichi’s love was like sunshine you had to continually coax out from behind dark clouds. It was worth it though.

 

 

 

Ouma became radically aware that he was about to come for the second time tonight while watching them. He didn’t know if he could make it, but he was trying to drag it out so…so he could come _with_ Shuuichi again.

 

 

He knew without a shred of doubt that what Rantaro was doing to Shuuichi had escalated far beyond how either of them would fuck him. They had made him feel like he was going to break, voice cracked and gone, no more come to give even though they kept him going and _going_ …but this…this was just some next level shit.

 

 

Rantaro had scooped Shuuichi up by his ass, not letting go for a second as he pushed forward _into him,_ making use of that god damn pile of pillows to toss Shuuichi back up and over it. From here, Rantaro could place one large hand along the wall above the bed while still gripping the other boy securely by the back of his thigh.

 

 

And then it happened. It had happened several times before, but Ouma still couldn’t believe this shit. He was pretty sure Shuuichi was going to sustain some kind of head injury from the way he was folded in half and banging his face against the wall. Neither of them even seemed to notice what Ouma was seeing. Rantaro was using his very advantageous leverage to just like, roughly _plough_ into Shuuichi.

 

 

Every time Shuuichi’s screams became coherent enough to make out Rantaro’s name, Rantaro went harder, and faster…Ouma could see blood running down between their thighs. Neither of them seemed to care about anything right now. Except getting off.

 

 

Shuuichi’s flushed erection hit his stomach with every single thrust and Rantaro was _rolling_ into him. Into the place that made Shuuichi scream even more. Ouma felt himself becoming wetter with precum as he ran his finger through it, not taking his eyes away from everything they were doing.

 

 

Whenever it became particularly intense, one of them would end up smiling over at Ouma because he couldn’t hold back sounds he was making. He had pushed the satin down, and held himself loosely in his hand, matching Rantaro’s movements. He was a mess right now and internally begging Shuuichi to hurry the fuck up.

 

 

Rantaro was killing Shuuichi again under symphonic crystalline, hair matted with sweat that ran straight down his neck into his--

 

 

“You’re still wearing your fucking sweater.” Shuuichi said, laughing up at him.

 

 

 

Rantaro went into phase two of snapping then. He pulled out and back, ripping his sweater off with one hand and then he spit on the tips of his fingers. Reaching down until the longest string of saliva finally broke, he pressed them down and circled around Shuuichi’s visibly torn asshole. Shuuichi was wincing and all Rantaro could think about was how soft it was and how it always felt…sucking him in. It was so fucked up.

 

 

_And so beautiful._

 

 

 _“You should see yourself right now.”_ He said, voice cold and challenging, looking like a total model, slowly unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and continuing to make Shuuichi come to pieces with his fingers curling into him. Barely. It was miserably too light and Shuuichi didn’t even mind because this right here was not what they _really wanted_.

 

 

That part was came as soon as Rantaro finished opening his shirt. He pulled his fingers back, letting Shuuichi watch the whole thing as he licked and sucked them from his palm to his nails. It was blood and lube and spit and Shuuichi groaned something completely unintelligible that sounded like begging and _‘fuck you’_ at the same time.

 

 

Rantaro smiled back down at him, moving to grip Shuuichi by his hips to flip him over and fluidly bring him back up, arched with his back touching the taller boy’s bare chest. This was something that Ouma probably hadn’t seen either and was not something Rantaro had planned but fuck. He wanted to give it to Shuuichi. just. like. this.

 

 

Rantaro’s chest felt warm and _good_ against Shuuichi’s back. Half the time he was so angry that Rantaro could even do these kinds of things to him. To his body. Making him such a mess under the other boy on the reg. The eternal reg. But in the height of it, like right now, Shuuichi was going boneless enough to let Rantaro lift him and lower him. Fill him again. His head rolled back onto Rantaro’s shoulder when he was fully loaded with Rantaro’s impossibly hard, hot throbbing cock.

 

 

Shuuichi barely had a chance to fucking shiver at all of it before Rantaro began thrusting into him, low and deep and fucking _exactly_ in the right spot while holding him in a death grip to his chest.

 

 

All the nipple play was far gone from Rantaro’s mind. He held Shuuichi tightly in crossed arms, digging his fingers into the boy’s arms, not letting him do much of anything.

 

 

 _“Touch yourself.”_ Rantaro said with as much composure as he could manage like this before turning his head to kiss Shuuichi’s flushed red lips in violent waves of pure need.

 

 

Shuuichi was torn between giving Rantaro the fucking visual he was asking for and just like letting shit ride out like this. He was so fucking close that it barely mattered anyway. Rantaro was hitting him over and over in _the_ right spot. There’s no way Rantaro couldn’t see that right now. Shuuichi was completely coming apart, he couldn’t even hold himself up or say anything that made any sense right now.

 

 

He tilted his head so his nose brushed along Rantaro’s neck. Breathing out, biting then kissing he whispered against that warm skin under his lips.

 

 

_“I want… you… to do it.”_

 

 

Shuuichi leaned back, adjusting and moving his arms up over Rantaro’s head to hold himself in place as much as he could in this state. He’d honestly be amazed if this lasted even a minute longer on his end by this point.

 

 

With less weight to support, Rantaro let one hand drop straight to Shuuichi’s dick with no delicacy at all. And he plunged deeply into him at the same time as he brought his fist down in a grip that _had_ to be painful for the other boy.

 

 

Shuuichi liked sex pain in weird ways. Some things he completely turned his nose up at and some shit, like this right now…gave Rantaro a power trip like you wouldn’t believe. It wasn’t like he was getting off on how animalistic he was being with another human… it was that Shuuichi fucking loved it and Rantaro wanted to give it to him.

 

 

For Rantaro, even though it might not be apparent to the randos he fucked, sex was all about giving the other person something amazing. Rantaro really was filled with love even if it came out in dangerously bad ways sometimes. But Shuuichi knew him inside and out and had thoroughly enjoyed a quarter of his life on the receiving end of this sexual peculiarity Rantaro had.

 

 

So even though it hurt like a bitch and he was preemptively fucking up his entire day tomorrow with his recklessness, Shuuichi was swimming in viscous electric ether right now. Like his fucking soul was leaving his body and his hips were uncontrollably slamming back to meet Rantaro over and over.

 

 

Everything was so sensitive from before and right when Shuuichi was barely noticing this in his fucked out haze, Rantaro ran one finger deftly over his nipple and Shuuichi was fucking done, man.

 

 

Ouma’s eyes went as wide as fucking saucers at the view. Rantaro had one hand gripping Shuuichi’s hip while the boy was fully arched against him, head thrown back and screaming over his shoulder. With his other hand, the one Ouma was staring at intently, Rantaro was mercilessly jacking out every bit of Shuuichi’s come that was just like audibly hitting the wall in long spurts.

 

 

The black haired boy was too fucking gone to look over when Ouma epically moaned and started coming all over his chest, staining his robe and even hitting his chin. Rantaro saw all of it though and he started fucking Shuuichi again, just grabbing the back of his hair and shoving it down into the mattress.

 

 

Shuuichi was so used to not having any time at all to recover where Rantaro and his asshole were involved. He was a sweaty mess, face down in his own come, rocking into the mattress with Rantaro’s relentless pummeling when he reached out to interlock fingers with Ouma across the bed. They were soft and warm and inevitably sticky. Shuuichi brought his hand back to lick his fingers and the two boys on the bed got another sexed the fuck up half-sound out of Rantaro.

 

 

Ouma slid over, smearing his own come across the sheets to nestle up near Shuuichi’s head, taking his face in both messy hands to kiss him. Soft lips and small tongue danced across Shuuichi’s lips in a gentleness that avidly eclipsed the violent things Rantaro was doing to him _back there_.

 

 

Shuuichi was getting hard again and he loved it.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Nearly an hour later, they were curled around each other in the middle of the bed, catching their breath.

 

 

Rantaro caught Shuuichi’s eye and they shared some kind of unspoken bullshit that resulted in both of them turning to Ouma, kissing each of his cheeks way too softly…and then they fucking whispered his name in each of his ears.

 

 

His first name. And they kept doing it. On and off, over and over, from whispers ranging to their actual voices…it was _ruining_ him.

 

 

_“jesus fucking christ!!”_

 

 

It wasn’t echoing off the walls in exasperation. It was wonder. _Wonder_ and _surprise_ and something else really fucking deep that kind of scared Ouma. It made Ouma’s skin prickle and maybe had something to do with the tears trying to work their way out of his eyes. It was a completely separate warmth from the way smothering heat radiated into him everywhere their naked bodies touched his skin. Which was kind of fucking _all over_ right now.

 

 

Shuuichi had never once called Kokichi by anything other than his last name. Rantaro hadn’t said it since the first day they met. Almost six fucking years ago.

 

**_“Ko-ki-chi.”_ ** _A fourteen year old Rantaro said softly, smiling, and it was **so suggestive**. “That’s a **really** pretty name.”_

 

That’s exactly when Ouma fell in love with him.

 

 

_And now fast forward to this shit._

 

 

It all sounded so unfamiliar and beautiful. The way his name rolled off their tongues in totally different harmonies…the way he had never imagined because it had never happened before.

 

 

It was too much. Way too fucking much. Not to mention the other boys were simultaneously running their hands straight up Ouma’s thighs towards his tiny bathrobe that was frankly doing a shit job of concealing _anything_.

 

 

Rantaro’s hand was firmly pressing into him the whole time while Shuuichi was being that nebulous thing he was in private. It was delicate and _considerate_ and felt like fire along Ouma’s inner thigh.

 

 

Suddenly, his attention was fully diverted to the thigh Rantaro was actually cutting into on the edge of one of his rings.

 

 

And Ouma fucking _liked_ it.

 

 

It was his turn to get uncontrollably vocal because of these two demons. But he bit his moans back as hard as he could because this was still all so _new_ and _hot_ and _fucked up on an emotional level_.

 

 

His resolve shattered to pieces though because Rantaro’s bruising grip, moving up the inside of his thigh, brushing fingers with Shuuichi there…his ring had caught and started to _cut_. Right through Ouma’s skin.

 

 

Rantaro was aware. And only thinking with his dick right now to be honest.

 

 

He cruelly made it deeper and then ran his finger along the cut, pressing into it, making blood run down to the sheets. Ouma was making beautiful sounds now. Rantaro roughly pulled Ouma’s knee over, shifting to hover over the wound. He blew on it, getting some kind of muffled expletive out of Ouma even though the boy was trying to hold everything in with his arms over his face.

 

 

Shuuichi was doing something perfect though. He reached up and took Ouma by both hands, first gently interlocking their fingers and then all too violently moving down to hold his wrists in a grip that hurt, to pin him there. Shuuichi fluidly followed this by lifting himself over Ouma.

 

 

Ouma looked overwhelmed to say the least. But Shuuichi didn’t want to stop and Ouma certainly wasn’t complaining. He closed the very small distance between their lips and sucked and bit and teased until Ouma was practically yelling swear words right into Shuuichi’s mouth.

 

 

Rantaro had laid his head on Ouma’s thigh, just circling his finger in the blood, unapologetically pressing into the boy’s skin. He breathed over it, lightly, from one end to the other and back again. Ouma’s back arched up off the mattress and the boy’s hard, flushed dick pitched forward to touch his stomach before bouncing back. Rantaro thought it was incredibly beautiful. He wanted to make him feel good. Make him come. A lot.

 

 

He smirked once before pressing the tip of his tongue directly into the cut. Ouma predictably spasmed and cried out from the pain and weird fucking turn on it gave him…but Rantaro had his thigh in that unforgiving  _strong_ grip so he could harshly run his tongue through the center of the cut without distraction.

 

 

Ouma was losing his fucking mind. He quickly pulled back from Shuuichi’s lips only to shout a very justified, _“Fucking **hell** , Rantaro”_

 

 

Unfortunately it was all breathy and needy and not the dictator style shit he was going for.

 

 

This was all Rantaro and Shuuichi needed to know.

 

 

And the way they were looking at him and holding him and fucking kissing him let Ouma Kokichi know exactly what was about to happen to him in the pale orange light of this room.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Ouma was a fucking _mess_ when they were done with him.

 

 

As soon as the pleasure and the pain washed away and they could fucking breathe right again, Shuuichi did what he always did. He wrapped Ouma in a soft towel and lifted him up around his thighs to wrap around him, letting the smaller boy rest his head on his shoulder as Shuuichi carried him down the hall to the baths.

 

 

Technically they were not supposed to bathe together. After that one night a grip of employees walked in on Rantaro coming all over Shuuichi’s face in the first shower as you walked in.

 

 

But neither Shuuichi or Rantaro seemed to care about the rule that was imposed on them because of that particular ‘incident.’

 

 

There were only a few women who worked here but they didn’t have rooms because they had actual homes to return to at the end of the day. _Out there_.

 

 

So Shuuichi had been taking Ouma into the women’s baths to take care of him. To bathe him and kiss him and dry him and kiss him _more_. It had even gotten to the point where Shuuichi used expensive ass shampoos and masks and creamy lotions all over Ouma to keep him “soft and fluffy.”

 

 

Shuuichi made Rantaro use the male baths at all times. Naked Rantaro was not to be trusted with showers and a giant bath at his disposal. Rantaro couldn’t keep his hands to himself if he tried and Shuuichi and Ouma in general couldn’t resist it if _they_ tired.

 

 

After bathing, they ordered a shitload of thai food that made their room smell like coconut and curry and cilantro. That’s _if_ you could catch it through the epic fog of so many exhaled bong loads.

 

 

They collapsed on their fucked up sheets in a pile that had Ouma lying back in the middle with Rantaro and Shuuichi curled around him on either side. _Again_.

 

 

It was way too warm but something in his heart didn’t want this to stop. The way their bodies felt against his bare skin was something he wanted to burn into his memory.

 

 

 _These **assholes**_.

 

 

Shuuichi was still softly rolling the edge of Ouma’s earlobe between his teeth, darting out his tongue to flick it against his sensitive skin. Ouma was sleepy as fuck but his breath was still ragged and not letting up because of what Shuuichi was doing.

 

 

He genuinely doubted that these two dicks were honestly going to just fall asleep. They didn’t work like that.

 

 

They were insatiable.

 

 

Rantaro was starting to move too. Lower.

 

 

With his teeth sinking into the pale skin over Ouma’s hip bone, mouth sucking and a slow, laving, _hot_ tongue…Ouma knew that they were going to break him all over again tonight.

 

 

But he wanted it. _So bad_.

 

 

It didn’t matter that they were high and full and very nearly exhausted. That shit never mattered.

 

 

Literally the only thing that ever mattered to the boys wrapped around him was that there was available lube and enough time to pull their dicks out. Like ever.

 

 

Ouma smiled and laughed. And then he rolled onto his side in their arms to let them wreck him one more time.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> your comments and kudos mean the world to me <333


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